


Don We Now

by onward_came_the_meteors



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Can be read as Harry/Ron but could be platonic too, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Dancing, F/F, First Meetings, Luna likes to talk about her creatures, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, One Shot, POV Third Person, Ratings: G, Romance, What-If, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onward_came_the_meteors/pseuds/onward_came_the_meteors
Summary: What if Harry Potter had come up with a different solution to needing a partner for the Yule Ball?What if everything had been just a little bit different?How Ginny and Luna could have met, and what exactly could happen after that meeting.
Relationships: Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	Don We Now

The walls had a heartbeat. 

Not really, of course--although such a thing could probably be accomplished with a Cormeum Admurum charm, now that she thought about it, even though the thought was morbid and quite honestly disgusting--but as Ginny Weasley leaned back against the sheer white decorations that wrapped every inch of the Great Hall, the throbbing beat of the music was enough to conjure the illusion. 

At least it was the Weird Sisters that were banging out the pulse-like rhythms. Ginny had feared that the whole night would be soppy slow songs from her parents' generation or else foreign music to "honor their guests," but that no one from Hogwarts would have a clue what to do with. Instead, some oddly perceptive staff member (Ginny would have bet the Knut slipped into her Christmas envelope that it was Professor Dumbledore) had actually wanted to have fun at this dance. 

Yeah, she liked the Weird Sisters well enough. Her shoe was tapping to the beat of the song, and she was absentmindedly nodding her head, even though this endangered the careful hairdo she had spent longer than she wanted to admit arranging. 

It was a good song. Better than good, actually. Not spectacular, but, you know, it would do in a--

"Oh, I give up." Ginny huffed a breath and continued muttering to herself. "At this point, it's obvious no one's going to ask me to dance." 

It had been obvious for the past hour and a half, really, but no one could say Ginny didn't have that Weasley determination.

Determination that had perked up and sniffed the air when Professor Flitwick had announced the Yule Ball in her Charms class, that had immediately supplied her with scores of daydreams involving her in dress robes and twirling around a dance floor with Harry--that had dimmed only slightly when Flitwick had added that the dance would only be open to fourth years and above. 

Determination that had led to poking up her ears at every rumor, every gossipy discussion in the girls' toilet about "he hasn't asked anyone yet," "he's a Triwizard Champion, he's got to ask someone," "time's running out." 

Determination that had taken a big, big, hit three nights before when Harry had jumped up dramatically from an armchair in the Gryffindor common room and announced: "That's it, I can't take any more of this. Ron, go to the ball with me?" When the whole common room had swiveled their heads around to stare so fast, Ginny had been shocked no one had snapped a neck. When Ron had looked as though a skrewt had fallen from the ceiling and said, "As friends, right?" When Harry had said, "Of course as friends, I'm just sick of all the pressure from this thing." When Ron had thrown up his hands and shouted, "Might as well!" and the common room cheered. 

Determination that had still valiantly steered Ginny toward finding a date, but sadly couldn't guarantee her one:

"Will you go to the ball with me?" 

"Sorry, Ginny, I was going to ask Lavender." 

"Will you go to the ball with me?" 

"Sorry, Ginny, I don't want to go to the ball." 

"Will you go to the ball with me?" 

"Sorry, Ginny, I'm going with Parvati." 

(That last one had been a shock--Neville and Parvati? It was almost as surprising as when Parvati's twin sister, Padma, showed up with a Durmstrang girl)

Determination that had led her, finally, to put on her mother's old dress robes and sneak into the ball anyway: unaccompanied and underage, but undeterred. 

And determination that had her standing by the wall for the entire time, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she watched couples spin in circles on the dance floor and wondered how some people found it so easy. 

But no more. It seemed that Ginny and the Yule Ball were not meant to be. 

As she pushed herself off the wall at last (the heel of her shoe scuffed the pristine decorations, and she felt a twinge of satisfaction), she turned toward the great doors, ready to leave.

Ginny was already thinking about the comfy pillows on her bed and the Quidditch magazines underneath them when her eyes landed on the girl hovering in the doorway and she froze. 

Who. Was. That? 

And how had Ginny not noticed her there yet?

It may seem like a bit of an overreaction--surely there were many people here she hadn't seen before, especially with the addition of two more schools--but anyone who laid eyes on this girl would understand why Ginny was so surprised not to have noticed her. 

Her perception was failing, she thought to herself as she rounded a few tables, heading toward the door and the strange girl. Not a good thing for a Chaser. 

Because if nothing else, this girl was eye-catching. 

She looked about Ginny's age (although… she had to be a fourth year if she was alone at the ball, right? Then again, look who was talking), with pale skin and dirty blond hair that was adorned with about twenty little pins and clips of various shapes and sizes. The metal caught the light whenever she moved, reflecting it back in a circle around her. 

And her dress robes… well, it wasn't exactly the traditional Yule Ball attire that practically everyone else was in. The word that first popped into Ginny's mind was "quilt," and honestly, it wasn't a bad descriptor. The girl did look rather like she had draped herself in a large patchwork quilt--homemade by the look of it--and cast a few Altering Charms. The effect was an ankle-length gown with draping sleeves like huge butterfly nets and loose thread in a thousand different colors sticking out everywhere. 

The girl didn't seem to notice or care that her dress robes were… different, though. She looked at peace, swaying from side to side slightly offbeat to the music, her eyes half-closed.

Ginny approached her, wondering if maybe she should mind her own business and go back up to Gryffindor Tower… but something about this girl fascinated her.

Maybe it was the fact that-- "You're on fire, did you know that?" Ginny blurted out, reaching instinctively for her wand before remembering her dress didn't have pockets. 

The girl turned serenely in her direction, giving Ginny a closer look at her ears, which had yellow flames licking and crackling all over them. "Hello." 

Ginny blinked. Not the reaction one typically had when told one was on fire. "Uh, hi, but your ears--" 

"You're Ginny Weasley, aren't you?" The girl hummed a mortifyingly familiar tune: his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad--

"Yes!" Ginny felt the heat on her cheeks. "Yes, that's me. And that poem was two years ago, so, you know, maybe it's not the first thing you should bring up to someone." 

"I thought it was lovely," the girl said. Anyone else, Ginny would have assumed was being sarcastic, but this girl seemed strangely sincere. Maybe it was the round blue eyes, or the soft voice, but something about her didn't seem like a liar. "You wrote it for Harry Potter, didn't you? Did you come to the ball with him?" 

"No." Ginny restrained herself from looking over her shoulder at the dance floor, where Harry and Ron had been delightedly making fools of themselves while their friends (minus Hermione, who was encased in a bubble of happiness with Krum) laughed and cheered them on. "But, your ears." 

Finally, the words seemed to register; the girl brought her hand up to touch one, but the flames didn't appear to bother her. "They're my new earrings--Flame-Freezing Charms, you know. I was going to wear my Plimpy-fin ones, but those seem to have disappeared." She blinked for possibly the first time since Ginny had walked over. "Perhaps that's for the best, though; they've been known to shriek when music is played." The girl sounded fascinated by the prospect.

Ginny wasn't sure how to respond after that, so she settled for, "So what's your name?" 

"Luna Lovegood." 

Oh. Oh. 

That… explained a lot, actually. 

Ginny hadn't ever met her before, but according to several sources (the other girls in her year who liked to gossip in front of the mirrors in the toilet or in the common room at night when the best armchairs by the fire were finally empty) Luna Lovegood was… well, take your pick: "Crazy," "Deluded," and "Hit with a bad Confundus Charm" were all rumors she'd heard. Whenever they'd had classes with the Ravenclaws, she hadn't missed that some people were teased more than others, but she'd never made the connection between the girl who'd gotten her lacewing flies stolen in Potions and the Luna Lovegood everyone talked about. 

"You're staring," Luna observed. "I suppose other people do say a lot of things about me, don't they?" 

Ginny couldn't tell if the question was rhetorical or not--Luna genuinely didn't seem to be bothered by it--but felt a flush of guilt that Luna was assuming that she, like everyone else, thought she was insane. 

"I don't like to listen to rumors," she stated--firmly and untruthfully. "I just think you've got a really pretty name." 

Luna smiled. "That's nice of you." 

"And obviously not everyone believes those things--someone asked you to the ball, didn't they?" Maybe Ginny should have waited for proof before she said this, but Luna was a third year--she had to have been asked by someone.

Then again, Ginny had snuck in while underage… but maybe that was just a "Gryffindor-courage" trait. At least "Gryffindor-recklessness." 

Luna tilted her head. "Yes, I suppose that's true." An awkward silence fell as she didn't seem to plan to elaborate.

Ginny shifted from one foot to another. "Er… d'you mind if I ask--" 

"Reginald Peakes asked me last Transfiguration," Luna said. A flicker of dismay ebbed away at her tranquil facade. "He and his friends were laughing a lot when I said yes, but I was excited to come--even if I guess he wasn't." 

Luna's meaning hit Ginny in the face, and suddenly her fists had clenched so hard there would be little white fingernail marks. "That git! I swear, next time I see him, I'll hit him with a Pimple Jinx." 

Luna's eyes widened even more, reminding Ginny a bit of an owl. "No one's ever offered to jinx someone for me before." 

"Well, maybe they should, that's a really scummy thing to do to somebody," Ginny groused. She looked at Luna again. "I have to do something about this--this injustice." 

Oh, now she knew she was spending too much time with Hermione. Still, she meant every word. 

And Luna seemed to know that. A cautious smile tugged its way back onto her lips. "Well," she started, the tone of her voice all Ravenclaw sensibility, "why don't you dance with me?" 

What?

What?

"What?" 

If Ginny had said one of those "what"s aloud, she couldn't tell. Her entire body seemed to have gone numb, including her vocal cords. 

Had Luna really just said what she thought she said? 

"If you don't want to, that's fine," Luna added, fiddling with her flaming earrings again even though they didn't need adjusting. "It was just an idea, you know, since neither of us managed to find partners..." 

"I'd love to," Ginny said, the words tripping over each other on their way out of her mouth as she hurried to say them before Luna could think for another second that she didn't want to. 

Luna's face lit up. "Really?" 

Ginny nodded, realizing that she meant it--that nothing about this was pity for a girl whose date had ditched her, that her numb body was tingling back to life at the thought of dancing with Luna. 

How could that be? They'd literally just met--why was Ginny reacting so strongly to the prospect of dancing with a girl everyone whispered--and worse--about? 

But those thoughts couldn't reason with the heat in her cheeks that was as hot as a furnace, nor the energy in her hands that led to her compulsively smoothing the same strand of hair behind her ear. 

If Luna noticed any of that, though, she didn't let on. "Of course, it's bad luck to leave a ball without a dance," she said as the two of them maneuvered around tables to get to the dance floor. "Infestations of Festal Nargles have been known to happen in the people's shoes." 

"What's a Festal Nargle?" 

"Well, they're a sort of…" 

Ginny didn't mean to tune out of Luna's explanation, but just as she began it, they reached the dance floor, where a moderately slow song was now playing. Most of the frenzied rush had died down, leaving much fewer couples dancing back and forth as people grabbed tables. Less of a crowd to hide them--a bigger decision to make.

One foot edged out.

The other.

Then Luna's.

And they were on the dance floor together. 

Ginny half lifted her arms, her hands awkwardly hovering in the area around Luna like butterflies. "I'm not sure how to… I mean, I've never really…" 

She looked around at all the other couples, boy and girl fitting together like puzzle pieces, one hand on waist, the other on shoulder, now hold hands. 

"No reason we can't make something up," Luna said thoughtfully. She looked at Ginny. "I've never danced with another person besides my parents when I was little." 

"Me too," Ginny said. "I don't think standing on each other's feet is going to work here, do you?" 

"How about--we just see what feels right." 

"O-okay." For some reason, Ginny's throat felt blocked. But she managed to take Luna's hand. Oh, she hoped hers wasn't clammy and gross.

"Cold," Luna remarked. "That's a sign of possession by a Spectre Bat, you know." 

"What?" 

"But since the other signs are blank eyes and no heartbeat, you're probably fine." Luna's own heartbeat fluttered beneath the skin of her hand as Ginny held it. 

Ginny didn't remember reading about a Spectre Bat in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but then again she hadn't opened the book since first year. When she mentioned this to Luna, she shook her head as though with regrettable exasperation.

"Of course something like that wouldn't be in a textbook. Plenty of people never publish something that requires them to open their mind." She shook her head again as if to say "when will they learn?" 

"Maybe that's what you should do, then," Ginny suggested. "Either publish it yourself or find the proof that will convince other people to." 

Luna didn't answer, and Ginny didn't have to wonder why--she had just slipped her hand around Luna's back, touching the soft patchwork of her robes. 

Slowly, Luna mirrored her movement. With their other hands still clasped… this could be a dancing position, couldn't it? 

They were so close--pressed so closely together that Ginny was almost afraid to breathe for fear of disturbing this delicate balance that they had created--how was she expected to dance if she couldn't move--if she was frozen-- 

The music shrilled and Luna gleefully jolted them both into movement, suddenly full of energy. Ginny hardly had time to think about all the ways they could have been messing up, but they just followed the other couples, moving in a way that felt both natural and thrillingly different. 

This is what a dance is supposed to be, she thought. This is… fun. 

She met Luna's eyes, wondering if the glow she saw was reflected in her own. From the smiles on both of their faces, she felt safe to say that it was.

They danced and danced, around and around the hall, spinning too quickly to hear the whispers springing up on the sidelines. 

She didn't care about them. She was having the time of her life. What did it matter if she was having it with some faceless boy or Luna Lovegood? 

Actually, she took that back--it wouldn't be the time of her life if she was dancing with anyone but Luna.

She'd have to thank her brother later for going with Harry. Speaking of which…

There they were, finally seated at a table, sweaty and happy-exhausted-looking from dancing.

As they spun by, Ginny lifted her hand from Luna's back to wave at Harry and Ron.

Ron was rubbing the back of his head. He'd gotten dropped on the floor when Harry had tried to dip him--a direct result of seeing Krum dip Hermione effortlessly and somehow translating it to "hey, this seems like a great and in no way dangerous idea--let's do it." Although Ginny knew that a knock on the head was far from the worst injury Ron had ever had (the broken leg from whatever had happened last year and the giant chess pieces from two years ago came to mind).

Even so, Ron looked like he'd gotten another hit on the head once he saw Ginny and Luna. Harry just laughed at Ron's expression. 

Ginny grinned as they spun away again. She knew what the rumors would be the next day--but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except this next breath, this next step, this next moment.

Around and around and around…

An idea glinted in her mind and she lifted her arm in a high arc, pausing her steps. Without even needing an explanation, Luna twirled underneath, just like all the other couples had probably done at some point. 

What most of them hadn't done, though, is what Luna did next: immediately after coming back up, she raised her own arm for Ginny to twirl underneath. 

And Ginny did without a second thought; the glittering icicle lights blurring into lines, the only solid connection Luna's hand and the floor beneath her feet. 

Once she was back upright, the words pressed on her lips until she spoke them: "You know… we never specified. Whether or not we were dancing as friends." 

Luna looked at her with those wide eyes. "As opposed to?" 

Ginny felt her face turn red and Luna giggled. 

"No, I know what you mean. It's just… don't you think it's too late for that now?" 

Ginny spun them around again, letting her gaze drift over the whole Hall, taking it all in to savor: the magical snow falling lightly from the ceiling, the glittering icicles hanging from the rafters, the students twirling about as their dress robes billowed around them, the music slow and beautiful, each quavering note a masterpiece as delicate as a snowflake.

The perfect night. The night she'd dreamed of. 

And here Luna was, as much a part of this dream as if she'd been in it all along. 

"Much too late," Ginny echoed, as the song ended and a new one burst into life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! (And everyone who celebrates Christmas: Merry Christmas! Everyone who doesn't: Happy Wednesday!)


End file.
